


Snow & Sunsets

by Vesiel



Category: Star Wars Episode V: Empire Strikes Back
Genre: Fluff, M/M, mentions of past violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 23:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7551751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesiel/pseuds/Vesiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veers and Piett share a moment on post-battle Hoth. Fluffy drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow & Sunsets

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick little thing I wrote for Tumblr a few months back. Unbeta'd, so apologies for any errors.

“It’s bloody freezing out here, Max.”

The other man–taller, broader, and evidently _warmer_ –looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You mean to tell me that Hoth is too cold for you?” Veers nudged him with an elbow before taking a swig of beer; no doubt some cheap Outer Rim swill. “The scenery alone should atone for it.”

Firmus Piett, newly christened Admiral of the Imperial Fleet, much preferred to be in the Executor at that moment, where the environment was controlled for optimal comfort. He was instead sitting atop an AT-AT with General Veers in the cold, watching the orange-blotched sunset with a glass of wine in hand and an insulated jacket on slight shoulders. Below them sat the remains of the Rebellion’s defense, charred husks of snowspeeders and artillery littering the white landscape.

“I’ll admit, I don’t quite share your macabre sense of humor,” Piett mumbled as he took a sip of wine, the alcohol warming him a little but not nearly enough. He stared at a black smudge about a hundred meters out–a mark left by an Imperial blaster–and briefly wondered what or who once stood there.

There had been a lot of carnage that day, from men on both sides. Piett recalled his impromptu promotion, watching helplessly as Ozzel clawed at his throat while the Force strangled the life out of him. He remembered saluting Veers before he boarded his AT-AT, donned handsomely in his helmet and cuirass, and sharing a knowing look with him. Piett’s eyes showed thinly-masked concern, and Veers shot him a confident wink in reply–as if to quietly say _don’t worry about me, this old dog still has plenty of bite_. He watched the battle from the comlink screen in the war room, trying his best not to look too concerned. Stars know if he succeeded.

Piett felt a leather hand press against the side of his face before gliding along his ear to ruffle his hair. He flinched in surprise at first, then eased into the touch with closed eyes.

“There you go again,” the General mumbled affectionately, his words slurring slightly, “getting lost in your thoughts. Come here.” He pulled Piett towards him and he allowed it, scooting closer to nestle in the crook of Veers’ arm. The man radiated much-welcome warmth, and Piett figured that was as good an excuse as any to half-cuddle with a man like a soppy-eyed cadet.

They sat in silence for some time, watching the sun dip below the mountainous horizon. Eventually, Piett looked up at Veers. “Max, you have no idea how glad I am you’re safe.” He convinced himself it was mostly the alcohol talking, but he felt it needed to be said, and was relieved when Veers didn’t look at him like he grew two heads, or take a sarcastic jab at his saccharine declaration.

Instead, Veers leaned over and gave him a soft whisper of a kiss, and Piett felt breathless in the wake of the General’s warm lips. The Admiral grabbed the fabric of his sleeve and deepened it in response.

Maybe, Piett decided, it wasn’t so cold after all.


End file.
